


unicorns prefer virgins

by worstpersoninyourfandom



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bp!Merlin, Canon Era, First Time, Intersexuality, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 04:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18217907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstpersoninyourfandom/pseuds/worstpersoninyourfandom
Summary: Merlin didn’t know why he’d thought Arthur would never find out. The man was oblivious, but he also had a bad habit of showing up at just the wrong time.





	unicorns prefer virgins

Merlin didn’t know why he’d thought Arthur would never find out. The man was oblivious, but he also had a bad habit of showing up at just the wrong time. Like right now, when Merlin had just returned from mucking out the stables, and was changing into a shit-less tunic and breeches. He must not have heard the prince come in through the medic’s rooms, because there was no warning before Arthur crashed through the door to his room.

“There you are! Now tell me, what has happened to my…” the prince trailed off. Merlin’s head was tangled in his tunic, arms going every which way and none of those ways going how he wanted them too, but he could guess what Arthur was distracted by. When he finally freed himself, he quickly pulled the garment down to cover his secret.

“Yes, my lord?” Arthur was still staring. It wasn’t a good look for him, if that was possible. _Probably not_ , Merlin thought. Arthur could never truly look unattractive.

“What…” the prince struggled to form a thought. “Are you a eunuch?” he asked abruptly. Merlin had the decency to color at the question, though Arthur lacked the decency to look guilty for it.

“Hard to lose something you never had,” Merlin muttered.

“What?”

“Testes, I mean,” was his reply. Honestly, this whole situation was starting to become quite funny, and not just because of the look of utter confusion on Arthur’s face.

“You’re not making any sense, Merlin. Has all the cider finally rotted your brain? Not that there was much there to begin with.” Deciding this encounter had gone far enough, Merlin lifted one of his bared legs to the bedside table. That would shut Arthur up, if only for a few moments. Show, don’t tell, especially if one’s master tended not to listen to a word said to him.

“You’ve got… you’ve got both,” Arthur stated.

“Really?” Merlin said drily, “I’d never noticed.” This time it was Arthur’s turn to color, and he hastily looked away.

“When you’ve made yourself decent, we’re going to the armory,” Arthur’s quick breathing betrayed him, but Merlin was wise enough not to comment as he pulled on clean breeches.

 

That should have been the end of it, but the Gods didn’t tend to favor Merlin so. It was three weeks past, enough time that he thought Arthur was simply going to pretend nothing had happened. And enough time that his crush on his master had become near-concerning. They were camping out in the forest, stalking a pure white hart past the ruins of a Roman temple. Though it was dark, and the fire banked, Merlin could hear Arthur tossing about on his bedroll, far from sleep.

“Sire? Something on your mind?” he asked, careful.

“Oh, shut up Merlin,” came the grumpy reply.

It wasn’t until noon the next that Arthur let something slip. They were riding past marble pillars covered in dirt and moss, when the prince broke his silence.

“So, can you get pregnant?” he asked, with forced casualness. Merlin’s first response was one of shocked indignation, _Now is really not the time or place,_ but he could never begrudge Arthur anything. So, he pondered for a moment before coming up with is answer.

“Not that I know of.” Arthur’s brow furrowed at that.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard there,” Merlin laughed. Arthur brushed past the insult uncharacteristically, before speaking again.

“You mean you’ve never…?” he asked delicately. Merlin was tired of this Arthur, too-polite and too close to another truth he’d never uttered. He snorted.

“No one’s exactly lining up to fuck me, Arthur. In case you missed it, the whole mess between my legs tend to scare most people off. I’m somewhat of an abomination.”

“You’re not-“ but the reply was cut off as the hart they pursued cut in front of the horses, and the chase was on.

 

 

And _that_ should have been the end of it, but Merlin knew better than to hope. It was Yule, the winter solstice, and Camelot’s halls were filled signing, merry-making, and wine. Lots of wine. At the banquet that night, Merlin ensured that his master’s glass never ran empty, and was able to sneak in a few toasts with Gwen while the nobles were distracted. It was a night for celebration, not regrets. No regrets, that was, until a tipsy Merlin had to carry a very drunk Arthur back to his chambers. He was heavy.

“Merrrrlin,” the prince slurred, “why are all the nobles so ugly?”

“I don’t know sire, maybe you should ask your father. He certainly passed on that trait.”

“I didn’t mean me, you idiot. I mean why does even a servant look better than Lady Josephine?” She was a visiting noble, a marriage prospect that Merlin tried too hard not to resent. It took his wine-addled brain a few moments too long to process what Arthur had said, but when it hit him he could feel his stomach drop out from under him. Luckily they were to Arthur’s door by then, and the task of opening the doors proved suitable distraction from further conversation.

Inside, Arthur flopped himself down on the bed, while Merlin turned to the task of raising the fire to acceptable December levels. It proved harder when slightly drunk.

“You really are, you know,” Arthur’s voice was muffled by bedclothes. Now it was Merlin’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Are what?”

“Beautiful. More so than any of the visiting ladies.” Merlin dropped the poker he was holding, hissing when it landed on his foot.

“Arthur, you can’t…”

“Can’t what? Say it? I’m the prince, I can say what I want. Now I’ll say another thing!” He had raised himself up from the bed, and was looking over to the hearth where Merlin knelt.

“You’re very beautiful, and I want to fuck you, abomination or not. Not that you’re an abomination, just that, you know, you said…” he looked concerned. “That is, if you want to. I mean, I’ve seen you when I bathe, you’re not exactly subtle, but still, I’m not the kind of noble to order my servant into bed. Unless you want that? Or if you just want to leave that’s fine with me, just fine. Or-“ He was cut off by Merlin’s lips against his own, hot, hotter from the fire. He had closed the distance between them in a few strides, fire poker forgotten on the ground.

“Yes,” he whispered into the kiss.

“Yes what?” Arthur was still concerned.

“Yes I’m interested in you. But tonight, you’re drunk. I doubt you can even get it up in this state.” Arthur looked wounded, until Merlin pushed him down on the bed, stripping him out of his banquet clothes. He was disappointed when moments later a nightshirt was pulled over his head, and the blankets pulled back to allow him access to the pillows. Once his charge was abed, Merlin rose to return to his own rooms.

“Stay.” It wasn’t a command, but it very well could have been, for all his ability to refuse. Merlin took off his shoes and pants and slid into bed beside Arthur. The drunk man slung his arm over his servant, pulling him close in the last moments of lucidity before sleep overcame him.

 

In the pre-dawn light, Merlin awoke, not fully sure of where he was. With a jolt, the night before came back to him. _Arthur…_ he _wanted_ him. His feelings were returned. Or were they? Did Arthur simply want him because of his unusual genital structure, simply because he presented some novelty? Merlin wrapped himself in his anxiety, delving deeper.  
“Stop thinking,” his bedmate commanded. “You woke me up.” The warm body of the prince moved closer, and Merlin could do little to resist the arms that held him fast.

“Arthur,” he asked, “did you mean it, what you said last night? Drink does things to a man, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Merlin…” Arthur roused himself, one muscular arm raising his head so he could look into Merlin’s face. “I meant every word of it. And more. I think I might even love you, if I was allowed to do such a thing. But, seeing as how I’m the crown prince, for now lust will have to do.” The sincerity behind the words threw Merlin off balance, and the scorching kiss that followed kept his head spinning. Soon, the kiss moved from his lips to his neck, and strong, sure hands were undoing the ties to his tunic. Once undone, he lifted himself off the bed to allow it to be cast aside. Arthur trailed kisses down his chest, mouthing along the just of his hipbone to the top of his smalls.

“Do you want this?” the prince had drawn back, and Merlin sighed at the loss.

“I do, I think more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, except maybe wanting Gaius to stop snoring,” he babbled.

“Please don’t bring Gaius into this.” Arthur huffed.

“Just, be careful, I’ve never…”

“I would never hurt you.” Arthur gently pulled off his underclothes, noting the patch of slick in their center. He revealed a small, if stiff and proud, cock, as well as source of the damp smalls.

“Gods, Merlin” Arthur breathed, bending down to take him into his mouth like an offering. With a sigh, Merlin relaxed into the heat, the sensation of being worshiped in a way that serving boys never were. Arthur’s mouth pulled back, leaving him chilled for a few moments before delving into the folds below. With a shift of his head, the prince’s tongue thrust deeper, touching places inside him Merlin had only dreamed of. His differences had always been a source of shame, and prevented much exploring in that area. Now, however, a whole new world was being opened by Arthur’s mouth.

When he deemed him good and ready, Arthur added a finger to his ministrations. Then another, and eventually another. Merlin was going crazy, whispering nonsense to the morning air, writhing on the luxurious bedsheets.

“Steady,” Arthur told him with a grin, “Don’t want to hurt yourself.” And then he was shrugging out of his own shirt, all tight muscle and golden hair. Merlin had little time to appreciate this, because the next part of Arthur that was revealed took all of his attention. He brandished his  cock like a lance, lining it up with Merlin’s dripping cunt. When he sank in, it was like a thousand small explosions, and it took all of Merlin’s concentration not to allow his magic to blast the fire five feet high, or knock the glass from the windows. It felt so right, so complete, and Merlin pondered that for a second before Arthur began to move within him, stealing all his ability for rational thought. He floated, transported by pure pleasure, caught between his master’s cock inside him and his hand on his own stiff member. It was all too much, and when Arthur bent down to kiss him again, tender and loving in a way he had never shown before, it took Merlin over the edge. Arthur followed, and collapsed back, gingerly pulling out as he went.

“Guess you really did mean it,” Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shut up,” was the reply, “I’m too hungover for pillow talk right now.” Though he did pull Merlin closer, wrapping him an embrace that threatened to drive off the mid-winter’s chill. Suddenly, the prince shot up.

“You _can’t_ get pregnant, right?”

“I’m sure Gaius has some way of ensuring that.” He wasn’t about to mention the contraceptive spell he had used on himself, not while the sun was rising and everything was so perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thot I should back into writing, forgot how good I was, lmao


End file.
